


Den lille havfrue

by Maeve_of_Winter



Series: The Caustic Ticking of the Clock [1]
Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: Death of an OFC, Gen, Grief/Mourning, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sleepyside community suffers a sudden loss, and Jim finds himself growing concerned for Dan's state of mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Den lille havfrue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is an indirect sequel to another one of my fics, “So Maybe I’m a Masochist.” It’s not necessary to read the latter to understand the former, but certain aspects of the story will be more clear with prior knowledge.
> 
> This story basically serves as prologue to what will one day lead into a longer series. Some events will not be immediately explained, but will come to make sense with later installments.
> 
> A big thank you to Julie W for helping me with this fic.

Esther Kerioth’s death is announced at the end of school on the second  Thursday in March. Jim is in his senior-level social studies class alongside Brian and Dan.

The last time Jim can remember this kind of announcement, the principal addressing the school over the loudspeaker in a stricken, somber tone, is in the direct aftermath of the September 11th attacks. That’s the connection his mind makes as the other students around him react with gasps and stunned silence.

There are several obvious differences, first and foremost being the deaths of thousands of people versus one, but what’s most significant to Jim is that he was too young to understand the announcement then. Now, he is fully aware of what this loss means to the community.

Jim turns to see how Brian is taking the news of a fellow senior’s death, but Brian is studying Dan. As the announcement continues with offers of counseling services, Jim follows Brian’s gaze and registers Dan’s slumped figure at a desk that’s several columns apart from theirs. With his nearly all-black attire, Dan’s already pale skin is rendered nearly cadaverous. His elbows are on his desk, his face buried in his slim hands.

By any rational means, Dan shouldn’t be in their social studies class; he’s only a sophomore and belongs with the rest of his year. But the guidance office made a mistake when assembling his class schedule and then refused to correct their error, probably due to embarrassment at such a blatant oversight. Knowing the guidance office’s logic, or lack thereof, they’ll also probably force Dan to retake this class when he’s a senior, even though he’ll already have completed the necessary credits.

Somehow, Jim doubts the effectiveness of their grief counseling services.

Dan vanishes the instant the bell rings. Jim doesn’t see him leave, instead looks around for him and notices the empty desk. He exchanges a long glance with Brian.

“Did you know her?” Brian asks without preamble as they leave their classroom. The usual jubilation that accompanies the conclusion of the school day is muted, no doubt subdued by the news of a fellow student’s sudden death.

“We were in a few classes together last year,” Jim recalls. He frowns as he realizes he can’t remember which classes those were. “But I wasn’t familiar with her beyond saying hello in the halls. She wasn’t especially outgoing, but she was--” he hesitates to say the word due to how trite it seems, but is ultimately unable to find a suitable alternative. “Nice,” he finishes lamely.

It first occurs to Jim then that “nice” easily serves as an all-around descriptor for Esther, that it might be used to commemorate her over and over again as people discuss who she was as a person.

He’s right.

“She was such a nice girl!” Diana exclaims, tears trailing down her lovely face as the BWGs stand gathered together at Trixie’s locker. “I can’t believe she’s dead!”

Jim doesn’t fail to note Dan’s grimace at Diana’s words. The younger teen stands ever so slightly away from the rest of them. He leans against the lockers with one foot up and arms loosely folded across his chest, close but still keeping his distance.

Honey pats Diana’s shoulder consolingly, then draws her in for a hug. “Did you know her well, Diana?”

Pulling back from the embrace slightly in order to speak, Diana shakes her head. “We worked together for a couple of charity events. Our mothers are in the same missionary circle. Oh, God, her poor parents! She was the youngest, and they’ll have to call her brothers at college to tell them!”

Mart reaches out and puts a hand on Dan’s wiry bicep, drawing him in closer to the group. “You knew Esther, too, didn’t you?”

Dan’s face is expressionless, but a muscle in his jaw twitches before he answers. “We have our basic art class together. Or, well, we did.” Several electives are required for graduation at Sleepyside High, and Fundamentals of Art is one of them.  

“Does anyone know how she died?” Trixie asks, her freckled face drawn.

The person who responds to her question is not a Bob-White.

“Drowning, presumably,” Jane Morgan responds matter-of-factly from her locker across the hall. She’s dressed to the nines in a pastel vintage outfit of a sweater set, skirt, and Mary Janes; her clothes, along with her hair, makeup, and jewelry, are entirely picture-perfect. “The body washed up on Croton Point Beach.” She does not pause in loading her advanced chemistry and mathematics textbooks (classes where she is placed due to actual merit instead of yet another scheduling screw up) into her floral designer backpack, but Jim detects faint tremors in her hands. When Jane goes to leave, slamming her locker shut and turning to walk away, Jim sees that the usual glint of resolve is absent from her eyes.  

“That makes sense,” Trixie remarks quietly. “The rivers and streams have been so high with all the snow melting and the ongoing rain. There’s been all those warnings to stay away from the water and areas known to flood . . .” her voice trails off.

Brian opens his mouth to speak, and Jim watches as he seems to start to say one thing, but ends up verbalizing another. “Let’s go back to Crabapple Farm. We can make hot chocolate, and maybe put the fireplace to use by roasting marshmallows.”

They all agree, even Dan, which surprises Jim. He can only guess that Esther’s sudden death has reminded them of their own mortality, how quickly they can be struck down, so now they’re trying to make the most of their time together.

 

* * *

 

“You okay?” Jim asks Brian as they fix the hot chocolate in the kitchen of Crabapple Farm. The others are making s'mores in the living room.

Brian scrubs at his face with his hands. “We were in the same AP bio class, and there was this extra credit project offered. Gather a list of herbs and categorize them. Most kids didn’t think it was worth the extra ten points, but if Esther was down by the river, trying to collect the plants and she slipped--” he breaks off, blinking several times. “I can’t grieve for her. I’m sorry she’s dead, but I didn’t know her well enough then to honestly mourn for her now. But I feel like that’s wrong, that I should feel worse about all this.”

Jim grabs Brian’s shoulder and squeezes in solidarity. Since the announcement, he’s felt oddly detached from the events going on around him, but being here for his friends helps stabilize him, gives him a lifeline. He knows the raw pain of grief and doesn’t wish it upon anyone, but he wonders if enduring the deaths of his parents has made him overall desensitized to death and grief. He wonders if suffering through the losses of the two people closest to him prevents him from fully mourning anyone else.

He wonders the same for Dan when the latter cuts out from their gathering after exactly two hours. Their eyes meet as Dan strides to the door; he’s done his part for now, and he knows Jim knows. Dan has made an appearance, put in his time to meet acceptable social standards, but now he’s striking off on his own. Dan is a solitary creature, and, Jim suspects, somewhat retiring in addition to vaguely misanthropic. Being around others in a group setting for extended times seems to both exhaust and actively disinterest Dan, forcing him back into his shell rather than encouraging him to break out of it.

Later, Jim calls the Maypenny cabin several times to check on Dan, yet misses him by just a fraction in each instance. Jim would suspect he’s being fed excuses, but considering the long hours Dan puts in at the preserve, he’s willing to give Dan the benefit of the doubt.

Sleep does not come easily to Jim that night as his mind replays Dan’s reaction to and behavior after the announcement of Esther’s death. Initially, Dan seemed despairing, but not surprised, and then appeared to have locked away any kind of emotion. Searching his memory, Jim attempts to recollect any interaction he’s witnessed between Dan and Esther.

His general impression is that Esther Kerioth is-- was-- a pretty, well-dressed girl active in work for charities and her church, where Mr. Kerioth is the pastor. She was somewhat reserved without being particularly quiet or shy. Most of the students and faculty liked her and got along with her. The one person Jim can remember Esther being in conflict with is Monica Andersen, another senior and her closest friend. They both regularly dated the same classmate, Cain Carcer, and each seemed determined to win him permanently.

Jim’s eyes fly open in shock seconds later, as it dawns on him that already he cannot clearly discern Esther’s face.

* * *

 

Classes are abbreviated the next day at school to make time for an afternoon school assembly that’s somewhere between a memorial service and a mass counseling session. Dan fails to make an appearance.

“He ditched the assembly,” Mart reports.

“As usual.” Brian sighs with his usual exasperation when it comes to Dan’s exploits, but his tone is also tinged with unmistakable concern.

“His phone is off, too,” Mart adds worriedly. “He’s not answering calls or texts.”

Jim stands. “I’m going to go find him.”

This is the point when Brian usually objects, rolls his eyes and says Jim works too hard to accommodate Dan too often. He often says Jim is ready and willing to make excuses for Dan so Jim can play the good guy.

Now, he simply nods in acceptance of Jim’s objective and says, “Let us know when you do.”

As Jim makes his way through the building to reach the exit that leads his assigned parking lot, he stumbles upon a sight that makes him pause. Cain Carcer and Monica Andersen sit together on the floor near the other end of the hall. Cain leans against the wall, holding Monica as she sobs in earnest, her face pressed into his neck. Her entire body is shaking, but Cain is motionless as tears trail silently down his face.

Footsteps from behind Jim make him turn, and he finds Sunny Constantinos walking towards him, carrying several sodas that could only have been obtained from the teachers’ lounge vending machine. He sends a warning glare Jim’s way without stopping in his approach to the distraught couple.

Silently, Jim walks past, his mind turning back to his first remarkable interaction with Cain and Sunny. It had been a scrimmage day in the beginning of junior year, when most of the sports teams were holding practice games with teams from other schools. The football scrimmage finished, and later, in the parking lot, a bitter player from the opposing made a crass remark, some barb about Jim being adopted.

Before Jim could even react, the other player was tackled to the ground and dealt several successive blow to the face by Sunny. He and Cain had been making their way to the lacrosse field. Just as quickly, Sunny dropped the player and departed. He grabbed his fallen lacrosse stick from the ground and sent Jim an openly hostile look before continuing on his way as though nothing had occurred. Cain caught Jim’s gaze and gave him a quick once-over followed by a deeply unimpressed glance, before hefting his athletic bag and following his friend. Since that event, Sunny’s attitude toward Jim had been vaguely contemptuous, as if he blamed him for what occurred, and Jim was simply bewildered by the entire affair.

Jim thinks back over the incident as he unlocks his car and settles himself behind the steering wheel. He wonders if Cain had been dating Esther or Monica when Esther died.

Various attempts at calling Dan’s Wheeler staff cell phone are unsuccessful; each time the only result is voicemail, but it doesn’t matter. Jim has a hunch where Dan might go when he’s troubled.

In an area of the woods not too far from the game preserve is an old cemetery that sits near the top of the hill, shrouded by trees and towering hedges. Climbing vines wind throughout the trees branches in a thick canopy, and the ensuing shadows and dimness give the entire place an eerie aura. The tall gates are closed and locked, flanked by a duo of life-size angel statues standing on pedestals, but Jim squeezes through a gap in the wrought iron fence that is not quite disguised by several close-quartered thuja shrubs.

The cemetery is Dan’s safe haven when he is troubled; Jim knows of Dan’s habit not because he’s in Dan’s confidence, but because he overheard an argument between Regan and Dan. Regan had discovered Dan’s sanctuary and was utterly disturbed by it, insisting that Dan’s continued presence at the cemetery was morbid, that it made him look bad to other people. Dan had not responded to Regan’s worries, instead opting to stand unwavering in passive-aggressive silence.

Personally, Jim slightly agrees with Regan’s former statement, but he tries not to be too judgemental. He suspects that Dan has never fully grieved for the losses of his parents, and his visits to this cemetery are an outlet for expressing his loss. As far as Jim knows, Dan has not mentioned his hideout to any of the BWGs, and Jim tries to respect his privacy.  

The air seems unnaturally quiet and still as Jim follows the snaking path, winding his way throughout the graves. Some sit above the ground like sarcophagi, and many are guarded by large statues or are otherwise elaborately embellished to the point that it’s reminiscent of art gallery. Several small mausoleums dot the landscape.

He finds Dan in the most sunless, gloomy corner of the place, beneath a high arbor laden with trailing vines. Judging by his clothing, soaked from the intermittent rain, he’s been there awhile, reposing next to a large, arch-shaped marble headstone. A sculpture of a weeping woman crouches at the tomb’s base, her face covered by her hands, reminding Jim of Dan yesterday and Monica today.

Dan does not acknowledge his presence, instead stares sightlessly at a notebook open in his lap.

Jim takes a deep breath before he speaks. “The official sources say that Esther Kerioth broke her neck and died instantly. They’re not sure yet if she broke her neck in the river or if she died on land and was swept into the water, but they do know her death was painless. She didn’t suffer, Dan.”

What he doesn’t mention is that authorities found Esther’s backpack with its school materials near a swollen riverbank, lending credence to Brian’s theory yesterday. Jim also doesn’t mention that the backpack’s location was in close distance to the Wheeler game preserve or how much that unsettles him.

“What else are people saying?” Dan’s voice is rough with tears, and with a swipe of his hand, he closes the notebook. “Are they saying what a nice girl she was? How it’s _terrible_ that it was a nice Christian girl from a nice Christian family who had to die?”

Jim kneels down beside him. He wants to reach out and comfort Dan, but the younger teen has never liked being touched, and after the events at Glen Road Inn last summer, is almost completely averse to physical contact. “Dan--”

“No one would care nearly as much if it had been one of the girls at school whose sex life is the regular subject of gossip. No one would give a damn if it were a girl from Hawthorne Street-- but it’s tragic that Esther Kerioth died, because she was so _nice_. Such a _nice_ girl, such a _nice_ family, just the _nicest_ , and did we mention how goddamned _nice_ she was?” Dan dissolves into tears, his sobs hoarse in an aching throat.

This time he does not hesitate; Jim pulls Dan into a hug, feeling the younger boy’s thin frame wrack with sobs. Jim likes to think of Dan as the younger brother he never had, even though he’s aware that it’s a view that Dan indulges when it serves his purposes but mostly resists. Dan’s lived too much of his life independently to be comfortable relying on other people, but Jim still tries to be a hero to him regardless.

The rain picks up then, falling steadily. When the wind starts to increase as well, Jim, grasping Dan by the upper arm, brings both of them to stand.

“Come on,” Jim says, still holding Dan’s arm and gently guiding him. “We shouldn’t be hanging around in the rain. I’ve got my car-- I’ll give you a ride.”

In the car, Jim’s gaze diverts slightly from the road to observe Dan, noting that he’s wearing his black leather jacket rather than his BWG one. Dan's tears are gone, his eyes oddly not a hint bloodshot, but he still looks ill and exhausted. His skin is even paler than usual, and bluish smudges, dark as bruises, circle his eyes. A dull light glitters faintly in his eyes that tells Jim he's barely eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

Jim frowns as the Maypenny cabin comes view, no light at the windows or smoke at the chimney. “I guess no one’s home?”

“Elijah must be in White Plains, picking up some supplies,” Dan says, referring to Mr. Maypenny by his first name. “This storm will probably delay him.”

Instantly, Jim reaches a decision. “Let’s go inside. You should shower and change into dry clothes. I’ll make you food. You need to eat.”

Dan gazes at him with an inscrutable expression for a moment, and Jim is certain Dan is going to insist that he leave, because he’s fine, because he doesn’t need help. It’s Dan’s second nature to immediately ward off any offer of aid or companionship in fear of either looking weak or being indebted to someone. He’s too proud to accept help, and even more proud of his consistent refusal.

But unexpectedly, Dan acquiesces. “All right,” he replies with a shrug.

He exits the car, leaving Jim blinking in surprise, and then smiling in victory. Maybe, gradually, he’s getting through to Dan.

The notebook is accidentally left behind by Dan, and Jim grabs it before following Dan into the house.

“I’m off to shower,” Dan says, starting up the staircase to the second floor.

Jim nods. “I’m going to start a fire.” He notices the fireplace is already stacked with tinder, kindling, and logs, and he proceeds into the kitchen to locate the matches.

He tosses the notebook onto the kitchen table in a manner that’s perhaps, he realizes a second too late, overly flippant. The notebook skids off the table and lands on the floor, flapping open upon impact.

It’s not a notebook but a sketchbook, Jim realizes when he sees the colored illustration on the open page. He picks it up, studying each detail of the page.

The drawing shows a mirror’s reflection of a young woman who wears a white dress and a cross necklace. Her face is turned away as if in shame, her hair hiding her features, and her figure is hazy towards the edges, like she is either fading or being erased from existence. In the background is what appears to be a sky of gathering storm clouds, but closer inspection reveals the vague outlines of faces, mostly obscured but for dozens of luminous eyes staring from the darkness. The image is fraught with pain, the artist’s distress almost tangible.

Tucked away at the bottom left corner of the mirror frame, where the glass is just beginning to splinter, is a school photograph, faded and curled with age. Jim can’t be certain because of the use of shadow in the drawing, but he thinks the photo closely resembles Monica Andersen.

An inscription at the bottom of the page catches Jim’s eye.

_“Self-portrait” by Esther Kerioth._

For a few moments, all Jim can do is stare numbly. Then footsteps echo from the floor above him, and Jim raises his eyes to the ceiling.

**Author's Note:**

> The title, Den lille havfrue, is a reference to Hans Christian Andersen’s Danish fairytale, The Little Mermaid.
> 
> Monica Anderson was a oneshot character who appeared in #29. For the purposes of this story, I changed the spelling of her surname to “Andersen” for further reference to Hans Christian Andersen.
> 
> Esther Kerioth’s name comes from two sources. “Esther” is the name of the protagonist in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. “Kerioth” refers to Judas Iscariot, as Iscariot can be translated to mean “Man from Kerioth.”


End file.
